


One Life at a Time

by neveralarch



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-26
Updated: 2010-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-19 07:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meetings with future selves: often unnerving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Life at a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the best_enemies anonmeme.

It's not the kiss that surprises him. The Master knows himself, and he knows that he leans toward the hedonistic when it's not inconvenient. He's only met himself twice before, and both times the heady pleasure of feeling paradox tingle across his skin had been too much to resist. He is always undeniably handsome as well, which helps.

The kiss was expected. The different body temperature was not. Now that he's paying attention, his other self's very skin seems off somehow, wrong. The Master pulls away from himself, confused.

"What happened to us?" He has never worried about 'spoilers,' unlike the Doctor. _Knowing_ is much more important than keeping his timeline pure.

"We survived," says his other self. He holds on to the Master's shoulders with almost bruising force, as if he's worried that the Master will pull away, that he will be rejected.

The Master has never managed that amount of self-loathing. Perhaps that is one more thing that will change, in time.

Now, however, he accepts himself. The Master reaches up and cups his older self's cheek, feeling the familiar yet strange bristle.

"We still have a beard, at least," he says. "Chameleon arch?"

"No, it's not our body." His older self relaxes a little, and his hands loosen around the Master's shoulders. "If you want to know what lies beyond your last regeneration, take a good look." He grins, a humorless, slanted pull of the lips that bares his teeth. "I am the afterlife."

"Really?" says the Master, mildly. He moves his hand higher to twine in his older self's hair. It's a stretch, but his older self helpfully bends down a little, making it more convenient. "I had assumed that you were merely my next regeneration."

"No." The grin has real amusement in it now. "You won't want to meet him. You know what they say about thirteenth incarnations."

The Master starts to ask another question and his older self stops him, kissing him again. There's something desperate about it, and the Master tries his best to accommodate himself, even as he tastes blood.

When they finally pull apart, it is his older self that speaks.

"What is it like? Being purely Gallifreyan. I can't remember, not anymore."

"I don't know what you mean," says the Master, but something in his older self's eyes makes him try to explain anyway. "It's normal. What we're used to?" Still not right. He tries one more time. "I feel comfortable in myself."

His older self's breath hisses through his teeth, and the Master knows that that wasn't enough. Unfortunately, he doesn't have anything left to give.

"It can't be that bad," he tries. "We're alive."

"That's the most important thing," says his older self, almost automatically. "But I do," he continues, slowly, "I do miss being comfortable."

The Master frowns. "Better to be uncomfortable than dead, I would think."

His older self laughs. "You're so _young_ ," he says. "But you're right, of course." He shakes his head free of the Master's hand and straightens up. The Master looks up at him, watching as his older self disguises his self-doubt and unease with another slanted grin, and stops wondering. He'll get to live through it, after all.


End file.
